


Dancing

by Severina



Series: Alphabet Soup [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4223418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He lost track of how many more of the execrable 'songs' assaulted his auditory nerves before she finally appeared at his side, breathless and veritably glowing with happiness. And why not? She'd spent the evening snuggled in the arms of half a dozen of the most handsome bachelors in Storybrooke, while he stood on the sidelines like a… a chaperone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Storybrooke. Written for the prompt "D" at LJ's 1_million_words A to Z Challenge.
> 
> * * *

Rumplestiltskin stood alone at the edge of the dance floor, a glass of watered-down punch clenched and forgotten in one hand. His head throbbed with every beat of the bass hammering through the speakers; his leg ached despite his cane. He could be home in his favourite armchair, sipping a glass of fine wine and listening to Vivaldi. He never should have let Belle convince him to attend. 

He sought her out in the crowd for the tenth time that evening, found her smiling as she talked with Charming and several of the odious dwarves. His Belle looked radiant, her eyes sparkling with laughter. Was it any wonder that she was the life of the party, drawing people unerringly into the pull of her orbit? She was sunlight and warmth, the sweet bite of fresh fruit on a summer's day. 

And he? He was the dark cloud threatening rain. He was the worm in the rotten apple. No one dared come near him for fear he may squirm and bite.

Not that he cared. It wasn't like he wanted to spend his valuable time engaged in frivolous chatter with the imbeciles of Storybrooke. He'd rather have every tooth in his head removed with rusty pliers than have to listen to one more inane story about—

"Having fun, Mr. Gold?"

Rumplestiltskin stiffened before turning his head slowly to the left. Leave it to Snow White to put on her best brave face and approach the beast in their midst. "Having a lovely time," he gritted out. 

"Good," Snow said, nodding. 

He turned away to again scan the crowd, dismissing her with a look. The sheer mass of bodies crammed into the town hall had turned the room into a virtual sauna, and he bit back a grimace at the sweat pooling beneath the collar of his dress shirt, resisted the urge to loosen his tie. Perhaps a cool shower when he got home, then--

"Only I noticed that you haven't been dancing…"

Never one to take a hint, the erstwhile princess. 

"If you ever plan on playing some _music_ ," he bit out, "I may consider it. The cacophony of sound currently emitting from those speakers? Is an insult to the ears."

Snow cocked her head, listened to the discordant noise for a moment before smiling at him. "You don't like Justin Timberlake?"

"Who?" 

"He's one of the most popular musical artists in the world," she explained. "I know, his music isn't exactly to most tastes, but the young people seem to—"

"Are we through making idle chit chat?" he interrupted. "Because I was just about to refresh my drink."

"Oh." She blinked at him. "I just—"

He turned away, ignoring whatever idiocy she was about to spout and again seeking out Belle in the crowd. He smiled wanly when she caught his eye from the dance floor as she whirled past him, wrapped entirely too snugly in Whale's arms, and ground his teeth when she was safely out of view. So it was Whale now, was it? First John Little, practically crushing his tiny Belle in his bear-like grip. Then the cricket, virtually rubbing his proverbial wings together at having the most beautiful woman at the party in his arms. It had been Robin Hood after that, then the giant; another of the smelly forest dwellers from the thief's little group of merry men had followed soon after. Then the dwarf with the temper. And now Whale. 

Rumplestiltskin felt the glass in his hand crack under the pressure of his fingers, and quickly pushed out the tiny wave of magic to restore it. 

He never should have come.

He reached across to set his drink on one of the tables before planting his cane more firmly on the floor, then fixed his gaze resolutely on the middle distance. The crowd of dancers became nothing more than a blur of colour, a kaleidoscope of yellows and greens and blues. He resolved to wait patiently, and refused to think of how the citizens of Storybrooke gave him a wide berth each time they passed; refused to think of Belle clutched in the arms of half of the male population of the town, her lithe body pressed against firm chests, her arms wrapped around strong shoulders. 

He lost track of how many more of the execrable 'songs' assaulted his auditory nerves before she finally appeared at his side, breathless and veritably glowing with happiness. And why not? She'd spent the evening snuggled in the arms of half a dozen of the most handsome bachelors in Storybrooke, while he stood on the sidelines like a… a chaperone. 

He stiffened slightly when she put a hand on his arm, fought to keep his voice even. "Having a good time, sweetheart?"

Belle nodded enthusiastically as she smiled, then reached past him to snag his drink from the table. "I'm parched!" she exclaimed after she'd finished guzzling half the beaker. "I've never danced so much in my life!

"I've noticed," Rumplestiltskin bit out.

Belle paused in setting the glass down, her eyes flicking to his. "Rumple?"

Rumplestiltskin cursed his traitorous tongue, his old and bitter heart. He had no right to deny her pleasure, no right to keep her from forging friendships with the denizens of Storybrooke, no matter how tempted he was to turn them all into garden snakes for daring to touch her. He should be _pleased_ that they accepted his Belle into their fold instead of treating her as a pariah, as they did him. "I merely meant—"

"Wait a minute," she interrupted. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at him, her head cocked to one side. "Rumple, are you… are you jealous?"

"Of course not!" Rumplestiltskin lied immediately. 

"Oh, Rumple." She shook her head and sidled closer to him, her palm warm on his chest; gazed up at him with those beautiful blue eyes. "You know I'm yours."

He melted. There was no other word for it. The spine that had held him erect and aloof through the entire endless evening bent like a lax bowstring; the hand that had twitched to sweep her away to his big house trembled.

"I know, Belle," he said softly. His other hand flicked out, indicating everything he couldn't find the words to say – his limp and the cane, the ridiculous noise that passed for modern music in this land, the hundreds of years weighing down on him, the townspeople who feared and hated him – before settling again on the knob of his cane. "I don't fit in here, sweetheart," he said.

"Have you tried?" She huffed at the pained look he gave her, placed her hand atop his on the walking stick. "I promise the next dance is all yours."

He sagged a little more to realize that they had navigated past his foolish, unreasoning jealousy with nary a ripple, then waved a hand at the surging mass. "Not exactly my style, Belle," he said dryly.

Belle turned to watch the gyrating couples on the dance floor before raising a brow and returning her attention to him. "Well," she answered, her voice tinged with amusement, "you _are_ quite the powerful sorcerer. Magic at your fingertips and all that. There _may_ possibly be a way that you could effect a change in the musical choices this evening. If you were so inclined."

Rumplestiltskin blinked, then smiled slyly. "You," he said, "are very bright."

"It's why you fell in love with me," Belle answered pertly.

His smile transformed into one of genuine delight as he hooked his cane over his arm, then took her hand. A wave of his arm and the electronic noise emitting from the speakers came to a grinding halt; a tilt of his head and the opening bars of "Can't Help Falling In Love" filled the community centre. 

He ignored the perturbed groans from the crowd as he led his love onto the dance floor. And as Belle swayed happily in his arms, he had to admit that perhaps attending this little soiree wasn't such a bad idea after all.


End file.
